


take me down into your paradise (don’t be scared)

by fortunatedaughter



Category: Pitch (TV 2016)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-20
Updated: 2016-10-20
Packaged: 2018-08-23 12:58:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,581
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8328835
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fortunatedaughter/pseuds/fortunatedaughter
Summary: “You should get in.” Mike says after a second and Ginny’s gaze snaps to his. “Water’s warm.”(She knows this. Her feet are in the water. He can see that. And yet…) “I don’t have a bathing suit.” Ginny points out, eyebrows furrowing.“So?” He throws back, gazing at her. His head quirks slightly. “Come on Baker. It’s New Years — no consequences, fresh start… live a little.”





	

**Author's Note:**

> based on a prompt from mikeginsanity — ginny and mike, skinny dipping. moonlight. his pool. 
> 
> i had to read a bunch of other smut fics to remind myself what the fuck i was supposed to be doing with this again, so go easy on ya girl with this one, alright?

It begins with New Years Eve. Evelyn had convinced Mike that with the renovations happening in the Sanders family home, the usual New Years bash for the Padres had to take place elsewhere and the only place big enough for the team and whoever they brought along was Mike’s place.

(Never mind the fact that Mike had worked very hard at cultivating an air of mystery around his home, with the handful of exceptions. Blip, when his back once locked up in the bath and he was stuck. Amelia, for the obvious reasons and Ginny, that time between her moving out of her hotel room and into her apartment and she had nowhere else to stay.)

As such, it becomes a thing — the annual Padres New Years bash was happening at Mike Lawson’s this year. (They all should have known that screwing with tradition was going to cause consequences.)

* * *

Considering some of the Padres parties she’s been to over the two years she’s been with the team and knowing how insane her boys can get on a good day — the New Years bash she attends really, isn’t all that bad. Of course, there’s the usual drunken antics but — there’s no Tommy swinging from a chandelier this time so in the tame books it goes.

One thing that is different, however is that she can feel Mike’s eyes on her the whole time. Ginny knows that it’s the dress — she bought it for this sole party alone after being goaded by Evelyn into buying it. The strapless dress is cut just that way to show off her collarbones and a hint of cleavage, coloured a soft golden pink. She’s aware it’s different by the standards of dresses she usually wears, which is why it’s such a thrill knowing he (the one person she’s always been swayed by, no matter what) is so affected.

_It’s thrilling._

By one am, most people have cleared out — kids tucked back in their beds and parents at home and those still single headed for the city and seeking that next party. Ginny isn’t quite ready to leave, but she doesn’t wanna head for another party either, which is half the reason she seeks out Mike’s silhouette out from where she can see him in his pool; moonlight casting shadows along the planes of his face.

“Didn’t expect to find you here.” Ginny drawls, sliding the door open and slipping outside. She only hesitates for a moment before approaching the pool and sitting on the edge, letting her feet slip into the pool. (She’s thankful she kicked off her heels around 11.) Her teeth tugged her bottom lip as she catches sight of Mike’s silhouette up close, moonlight cutting across the plains of his chest — she’s seen him shirtless before, had spent many mornings and afternoons and nights in the clubhouse, talking while the massage therapist massaged his knots and kinks out, but — this is different.

He shrugged, wading through the water till he was leaning his arms against the edge closest to her. “Knees hurt. Pool helps sometimes.”

She nods. He’s scheduled to have his reconstruction surgery in the coming month, early enough so he can recover in time for spring training and she knows that it’s been a long time coming. She just hopes Mike recovers well enough to play with her one last time and play well, so they can really make it to the playoffs this year.

“You should get in.” Mike says after a second and Ginny’s gaze snaps to his. “Water’s warm.”

(She knows this. Her feet are in the water. He can see that. And yet…)

“I don’t have a bathing suit.” Ginny points out, eyebrows furrowing.

“So?” He throws back, gazing at her. His head quirks slightly. “Come on Baker. It’s New Years — no consequences, fresh start… live a little.”

“Well I’m not getting naked unless you are.” Her eyebrows raise in challenge — tit for tat, and all of that. She didn’t think he’d do it, didn’t think he reach his hands under the water, undo the ties on his shorts and tug them down, throwing the wet fabric over the edge of the pool.

Ginny swallows roughly. The darkness of the night means she can’t actually see his cock, but the outline — Jesus. ( _‘Half of San Diego’s seen Mike Lawson’s’_ Evelyn said once. Ginny can see why.) Her eyes dart from the pool to Mike’s eyes and she bites her lip. The look in his eyes says that it’s okay — she doesn’t have to do anything and they’d can file this away in their moments box: where the two of them have come close to being something but done nothing about it.

A part of her wants to pull back like she always does, define those boundaries between them and remind the both of them that they can’t go down that road. And maybe it’s the tequila in her system or maybe it’s the fact something has been lurking between them since he decided the upcoming season was his last, but inevitability hangs over her like a cloud.

(Like they’ve been heading for this moment since she stepped onto that mound, since he gave that pep talk, since he announced his retirement and there was nothing holding the two of them back.)

Maybe it’s all of that and none of that, but suddenly she feels so very emboldened and it’s for that reason alone (and not anything else like pesky _feelings_ or a burning desire to prove to herself and to Mike that she can do this, she can still run with the best of them) she pulls her legs from the pool, standing. Mike’s eyes follow her, flecks of curiosity shining in the depths of his eyes. She shuffles away from the edge of the pool, making sure that when she does this — takes her fucking dress and underwear off and in front of _Mike-fucking-Lawson_ — they won’t be soaked with pool water so that she can’t wear them home.

Her hands only shake slightly as she reaches towards the zipper of her pink dress, and she tugs, feeling the fabric slip over her skin to pool at her feet, revealing white lace bra and underwear. (It was New Years so of course she broke out the nice underwear. Fucking sue her.)

The look in his eyes though — Christ. She can feel herself grow wetter under his gaze, under those rapidly darkening pupils, unflinching and all-seeing. Mike is looking at her with the same quiet intensity that he does on the field except it’s different now — she’s standing half naked in front of him, 15 seconds away from dropping her panties and going skinny dipping him. All because she’s a lil drunk and because she has this stupid urge to prove herself. The urge to squirm under his gaze swells through her before she stamps it down.

This is **ridiculous**.

Ginny is by no means a virgin. The first time she slept with Trevor was in the back of his truck, for crying out loud and when she was dating Nate last year? While the two of them weren’t exactly the poster couple for the Kama Sutra — they weren’t vanilla either. But this isn’t the giggling fumbles of a new boyfriend or the explorations of a serious guy. This is Mike and it’s already different by that fact alone.

She reaches behind her, unhooking her bra. The straps slip off her shoulders and she tugs gently, the lace cups coming away from her. (She’s standing in front of Mike Lawson, wearing nothing but her goddamn panties. They’re officially past the point of no return.) She feels herself bristle against the cool California winter air, feels her nipples harden — feels the sharp intake of breath on Mike’s part, even though he’s nowhere near her.

Her thumbs hook into the edges of her panties and this time she doesn’t hesitate. She’s come this far and it’s no big deal, right? ( _Wrong_ , her mind whispers, _this is a huge deal no matter what you tell yourself, rookie._ — when her mind’s voice started sounding like **Mike** , she has no fucking clue and really, she doesn’t care to analyze that right now.) The fabric slips down the subtle curve of her hips, falling to her feet.

Ginny Baker is standing naked in front of Mike Lawson, and all because the fucker vaguely dared her to get in the pool. It’s official — she’s lost her fucking mind.

Swallowing slightly, Ginny approaches the edge of the pool, hooking her legs over the edge before slipping off and into the water. His pool, by any means, isn’t shallow, but it isn’t deep either. The warm water wades along the curve of her rib cage, covering the lower half of her breasts — but the temperature does nothing to quell the tiny shivers rolling through her body that erupt under his gaze.

Ginny pushes away from the wall, floating on her back and deeper into the pool, a soft laugh falling from her lips.

She wonders about the image she presents — naked on her back, floating under the moonlight while her teammate and captain lurks however many metres away, watching her with dark eyes. “Come here,” His voice is like a balm to her tired soul, but at the same time, it’s like he’s set a tiny thousand fireworks off under her skin.

( _Inevitability_ , she thinks.)

She’s powerless to fight against it, a magnetic like pull tugging towards him and it has her wading through the water, erasing the space she swam not even seconds before. She stops just a hair’s breadth away from him, close enough that Mike can reach out and touch her, grab her, or push her away if that’s what he wants.

For a moment, neither one of them speaks. A million missed moments lurk between the two of them, will they or won’t they. Mike swallows and Ginny exhales shallowly. Her tongue darts out to wet her bottom lip and that — that is the beginning of the end.

His hands cup her elbows, thumbs tracing a circular pattern in the soft crook.

Her chin tilts up and she knows from the look in his eyes, the stuttering pace of his breath (she’s naked and right there, and she’s gotta commended the fact he hasn’t moved his hands past her elbows in all honesty)  — the choice is hers. If they go over the line, she’s gotta make first move.

She makes the first move.

Ginny closes the distance, pressing her lips against Mike’s, her eyes slipping shut as barely moments later, his lips slide along her own. His tongue traces the seam of her lips, silently asking permission and she opens up under him, exhaling as he inhales. She’s woman enough to admit she’s thought about this, even more so in the middle of games, top of the fifth when her arm’s starting to twinge and she can feel herself reaching the end of her rope — when games start to drag on and the time between when Al pulls her from the game starts to blur; it’s then she thinks of this, of what it’d be like. (If Mike knows why her pitches are a little sharper during those moments, he doesn’t comment.)

One of his hands shifts from her elbow, coming to cup her breast, blunt nail scraping lightly over her hardened nipple. Ginny gasps into his mouth and her hips roll against him, seeking friction. Her hips meet his and the choked curse word that falls from his lips fills her with a smug sense of pride. If she kisses him back with a renewed force and desire, Mike doesn’t say anything.

“Wait, wait,” Mike mutters, lips and hips tilting away from her own, eyes screwing shut.

“What?” She replies back, only slightly dazed from the effect of the kiss, from the pleasure that was so nearly hers.

His tongue darts out, wetting his bottom lip and Ginny has to fight back a whimper. “How drunk are you right now?”

Her lips purse. “Drunk enough that I don't give a flying fuck about consequences right now.” (And the consequences are steep — he’s got a season left before he retires and while it’s not like she’s still a rookie or anything, but. If this gets out? It’s the end, for good. She’s only just getting started and while Mike — while Mike is worth it… she can’t even finish that thought, less she psych herself out from doing this.)

“Ginny.”

She shrugs, shifting in the water, shifting against him. The ripples created lap against the curve of her breasts and really, she has to admire him by not getting distracted. (Nate once spent an hour distracted by her bikini top at the beach. It’s a nice change, she’s gotta admit.) “Two shots, two glasses of champagne. But it was at least a coupla hours ago.“

Mike frowns softly. “You’re not gonna regret this in the morning?” He peers at her, like he’s trying to read every emotion flitting across her face.

Ginny grins. “Technically it _is_ morning.” He looks ready to grumble, to walk them back from the edge they’ve stumbled upon when Ginny huffs and brings her hands up from the water, framing his face. She leans her forehead against his own, eyes peering at him with all the sincerity she can muster with his hands on her ass. “Hey. I could never regret you.”

And the way he’s looking at her — Blip told her once, under the influence of alcohol when Evelyn announced that she was pregnant again, that he’d always hoped she and Mike would end up together. ‘ _You’re his legacy, G._ ’ — She’d never understood, really, what that meant till this moment. The way he’s looking at her and the way inevitable presses down on her chest…

(He is her beginning, her middle and her end — her safe place to land.)

Something shifts between them. The look in his eyes, it's no longer just lust there, but love too. Ginny makes her choice. One leg hooks around his hip and she uses the leverage to push up slightly, gasping softly as she feels his cock brushing against her inner thigh, so close to where she really wants him. The low curse she feels ghost over the shell of ear has pride swelling through her chest. (He isn’t as powerless to her as she once thought. Good to know.)

She feels one of his hands come around the back of her head, guiding her to him till her lips press against his own once again. She doesn’t even hesitate, licking into his mouth like she didn’t get the chance to do moments before. She can even taste the remnants of alcohol in his mouth — the bourbon he was drinking when she first arrived, the tequila Tommy forced them to drink and the beer he drank while watching Blip’s kids on the porch an hour earlier; all of it is intoxicating, heady and so fucking addicting. A whine falls from the back of her throat as she feels his hand shift, moving from cupping her ass to glide over the curve of her waist. The feel of rough calluses slipping against her skin under the water — it’s almost too much; slickness and roughness all at once. Her thigh tightens impossibly around him, and with only a little shame, she rolls her hips just right, urging him on.

“Mike,” Ginny breathes, her forehead falling to his shoulder. "Please."

He seems to stop hesitating after that, stop worrying and watching and surrender to the moment. (Ginny has a fleeting thought that he was waiting for her to _beg_ , the bastard.) She feels him reach for her other thigh, guiding it to wrap around his hip. The heel of her feet press softly into the small of his back — because she saw him wincing earlier in the night and the last thing Ginny wants is to hurt him. Before she can even blink or pause for thought about those damn _consequences_ again, she feels the hard jut of his cock press against her slit; a whimper leaving her lips in response.

“Are you —” Mike chokes out, questioning. Ginny reads between the lines — once they start this, there's no stopping. (Right now, perhaps, isn't the best time to tell him she trusts him and whatever happens, happens, but. The thought is still there.)

She nods, frantically. “Pill. S'okay.” Ginny shifts her hips, lining their bodies up and a moment later sinks down on him, moaning as he presses into her, — feeling that tug of pleasure at the base of her spine as he fills her. Their angle offers something different, something rough and abrasive to their joining; for a fleeting moment, she wonders if his knees can take fucking her in his pool, before she realizes she doesn’t even fucking care — too lost in the feel of him inside her, too lost in the gentle lap of water against her heated skin.

“God,” Ginny moans, the word choked off and laden down with desire.

“Sure, you can call me that.” He snorts, but he sounds breathless and the quip looses it’s bite. Still, in response Ginny sinks her teeth into the skin of his shoulder and she relishes in Mike’s groan as she worries the skin — marking him, showing him that he’s her’s, more than pitcher and catcher. The feel of his hands gripping her thighs just a little bit harder shows her she’s doing something right, at least.

He thrusts shallowly at first — like he’s still hesitant and unsure about what she likes and her heart swells with emotion for him. (It’s New Years Day and she loves him, Christ, she loves him so fucking much that when he leaves the game behind, she’s not sure she’ll be able to throw that last pitch.) “It’s okay,” Ginny mutters, peeling her eyes open to look back at him. Her tongue darts out to lick at her bottom lip and Mike follows the action. “M'not gonna break.”

“Christ,” Mike growls and his fingertips tighten around her thighs, so much so she’s certain that when she wakes up tomorrow, there’ll be bruises. His hips snap against her own and a moan falls from her lips. He lets go of one of her thighs, hand coming to tangle in her hair. “Kiss me.” He mutters and Ginny blindly seeks out his lips. She presses her lips to his own, rolling her hips to meet his thrusts and God — it’s good, great even; she can feel her temperature spike, can feel the throb of her clit as Mike gently tugs at her hair, keeping her focus on the here and the now.

He begins to lose his rhythm and Ginny moans, her nails digging into the skin just below his shoulder blade. “I’m — _shit,_  Mike,” Her words cut off with a half pant, half moan, as a calculated thrust of his hips hits particular sensitive spot inside her.

That connection they’ve always hand since she took the field for that second game rears it’s head and he nods, knowing what she needs, panting against her ear as he reaches a hand between them, dipping his hand under the water. Rough fingertips, abrasive from years and years of screwballs caught by his mitt rub against her bundle of nerves, small, calculated circles over and over, bringing her to the edge even more so. Her toes curl against the small of his back, a harsh cry leaving her lips.

In the space of a moment, a harsh cry falls from her lips and her orgasm tears through her like a hurricane. Colour explodes behind her tightly screwed eyes and electricity spreads through her, igniting her veins and setting her blood on fire. Her thighs wrap tightly around his waist, clamping down on his cock as he jerks his release — she can hear his rough mutterings of her name in her ear and she knows, knows that her clamping around him is the thing that pushed him over the edge.

(She can’t have him close enough, is the thing. Inevitability presses down on her, sure, but so does loss. She’s not ready to loose him.)

Mike at least has enough sense still left in him during his own orgasm to plant his feet, supporting Ginny’s weight as she clings to him and he to her, aftershocks still rippling through the both of them.

Mike’s head falls forward to her shoulder and he presses a soft and loving kiss against her collarbone.

“Well.” Ginny chirped, voice lazy and relaxed and stated. Her fingertips lazily skirted along his back, catching on the divots left behind by her nails, catching on the bands of muscle and sinew. The water, now choppy from his thrusts and the rolling of her hips, sways against her back and she can’t fight the stupid dimpled grin on her lips. "That certainly beats the New Years kiss on the cheek Blip’s kid gave me.”

The sharp burst of laughter against her chest and sounding in her ear only adds to the elation she’s feeling after the orgasm he gave her. She pulls back, tipping her chin to look Mike in the eye. “Okay?”

He winks. “Always, rookie.”

She shifts against him, biting the corner of her lip. “Wanna go inside and fuck there?”

He laughs again. “You’re gonna be the death of me.”

"And only after _one_ round? You **are** an old man.”

**Author's Note:**

> *flings self into the sun*


End file.
